


EMIYA Gets HRT (Hornymone Replacement Therapy)

by warisaracket



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Nasuverse Metaphysics Discussion, Reality Editing, Trans Headcanons Probably Shouldn't Be Like This, Trans Woman Characters, Transformation, Why did I have to create half of the relationship tags I used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warisaracket/pseuds/warisaracket
Summary: The 5th Fuyuki City Holy Grail War is rapidly going horizontal. Heroic Spirit EMIYA prepares to put aside his mission yet again in order to investigate. As he does so, he encounters a series of revelations, prompting visions, prompting deliberations. Nevertheless, he goes deeper and deeper until a final encounter leads to a sudden moment of self-awareness and the beginning of a new, sensual journey for everyone's favorite Archer in red and black.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Archer/Kotomine Kirei, Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer/Artoria Pendragon | Lancer, Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer/Arturia Pendragon | Saber, Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer/Cu Chulainn | Lancer/Gilgamesh | Archer, Medusa | Rider/Matou Sakura, Tohsaka Rin/Luvia Edelfelt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the excession of the in media res beginning.

EMIYA understood, at a deep and fundamental level, that the expanded senses he was drawing upon now, reversing his connection to Alaya in order to examine the deep cosmological shifts going on in Fuyuki City, would be unthinkably cool to his younger self. He would have spent a fair amount of time fantasizing about the ability to witness tragic events unfolding backwards in time, getting there in the nick of time to save people. And as such, he kept getting too angry to really make use of those senses. It was frustrating. There was clearly Something moving around in Fuyuki, something which was totally alien to Gaia, (probably totally alien to any nearby planetary body, if he was being totally honest to himself), and something outside even those bits of Outside which humanity had brushed up against and assimilated into Alaya. 

That Something was the most likely candidate for the massive distortions going on, enormous quantities of mana being expended to hold back the history of humanity and let whatever was happening here play out until its end. Here, within Fuyuki, there was now a temple where there had been a Christian church, fusional architecture between classical Japanese styles and classical Hellenic ones. The priestess there had enormous breasts and scales up her arms and purple hair, like a much-degraded copy of the parodic Medusa that now sunned herself outside the Matou mansion and occasionally wrapped herself around Sakura. 

Here, within Fuyuki, there were no Western men. Instead, Western women were evenly divided between those with massive bulges in their trousers and skirts and those without. Here, within Fuyuki, the entire economy almost seemed centered on music, specifically heavy metal, goth rock, industrial, punk, post-punk, with barely any hint of the pop or enka industries that were what he remembered as being popular back in the day. Here, in Fuyuki- it was making his head hurt again. Whatever this Something was, it was clearly being aided and abetted by the Grail. 

And if this was a taint, a pollution on reality, the Grail muck seeping into the fabric of the universe, he, too, was stained with that muck. He had encountered the reshaped Medusa, and he had been helpless before her charms, her overwhelming presence, the warmth of her desires, her sheer glorious aspirational beauty. It was disturbing, really. Those who had been reshaped- Sakura, Rin, Rider, Saber, Berserker- all of them were, yes, incredibly sexual in appearance, but there was something about them, calling out to him, something almost inviting. 

He shook his head, and then his thoughts focused on Saber. He could remember her as she was before, the shy and gentle and regretful King of Knights, who had only had the opportunity to truly express her humanity through the course of their journey together to win the Grail. And now… The way that he thought he ought to think about it was that she had been turned into a sexual cartoon of herself, a warped distortion of her noble self. And yet… she was happy. She walked like a woman who was utterly happy with herself. She moved with a clear ease that the Artoria he had known had only been able to enjoy when she was faced with a clear path to victory. 

The fact that that clear ease meant that her head-sized breasts jiggled proudly with each step, and that her massive di-penis shifted overtly with each sway of her broad, fertile hips, well, that seemed oddly natural. Almost as if this foreign presence had removed all barriers to Artoria achieving her natural greatness. Her co-member a veritable pillar of flesh, the natural counterpart to the Rhongomyniad she had borne so long ago, no longer upholding the barriers of separation between Mystery and Reality, but instead penetrating those barriers. His magic circuits pulsed and faintly glowed for a moment as he considered what that incredible virile womanhood, more than a foot of it - _sixteen inches_ \- would feel like, lightly slapped against his face, his mouth bulging with the effort of taking it in, of serving his/her King, then once the Lion had expended herself in EMIYA’s mouth, graciously complimenting how well she could suck, EMIYA would blush, and turn herself around, bending over and spreading herself for her King to claim and fill and take and fertilize, rejuvenating soil long left dry by bitter sorrows and bitterer hatreds. 

EMIYA wiped his mouth, which had become unaccountably drippy. 

Regardless of his personal feelings on the matter, this was an inherently unstable situation. A Bounded Field like this could not exist forever, even with a Greater Grail backing it. It was something he had seen before on a smaller scale- this false history- these false histories, for he was sure that if he were to prod and poke (and squish and fondle and _feel_ ) then he would see for sure that the history in which Hellenism stood in the way of Christianity, backed by an army of busty snake-women, and the history in which the King of Knights had been so virile a woman, and the history in which Fuyuki had become the world center for aggressive hard rock and heavy metal, that they all came apart and did not quite fit together. Perhaps even the one in which Heracles was seven foot of extraordinarily curvy and buff maid would not really fit with the one of the snake women. And histories in conflict were crushed, the panhuman history overwhelming the inconsistencies. 

This was clearly more important than resolving his own personal Grandfather Paradox. After all, if he killed his former self, and yet the history in which it happened was erased, what good would it do? He needed allies. But regrettably, he couldn’t trust those he was closest to. Rin, Sakura, Medusa, Artoria… even Ilya was potentially suspect given her Servant was now this Heraclea. 

Who was left? There was Medea and her False Assassin. EMIYA discarded them immediately. They might be useful but what was needed now was someone who had a deeper understanding of the workings of the Grail. That meant the priest. If he still existed, and wasn’t a sinister, dapper, deep-voiced snakewoman who loved spicy food… 

EMIYA twitched a bit, thinking of that possibility, thinking of this outside force making its way to that dismal church where Kotomine Kirei and Gilgamesh and Cu Chulainn resided. Thinking of, for a moment, those two bold, arrogant, self-assured bastards, the fellow Archer and the Lancer, warped into forms much more pleasing. The King of Heroes undoing her fly, unzipping her pants, letting her dick flop out, still completely flaccid. EMIYA dragging herself along the floor of the church, whining softly at first. 

“Mongrel,” Gilgamesh would whisper to her, “How dare you think that you can arouse me? You are perpetually a copy, unable to truly match the original. Your little moans, can they compare to the sounds that I made before my Enkidu as I gagged for their length?” She would laugh, and then EMIYA would sneer, she would draw upon the Reality Marble that dwelled within her, not for its powers, but for the Truth that existed within and through it, and she would say, as she licked her lips, “There is nothing that says that copies cannot exceed the original,” caressing Gilgamesh’s cock, feeling it stiffen at her touch. She would hum and stroke and wink over her shoulder at the Hound of Ulster, her bodysuit straining, and invite her to fill EMIYA’s other end, to provide a bit of stamina to make up for the shamefully quick finish that Gilgamesh was ever prone to-

EMIYA shook his head, feeling unsure about herself, whether he existed, where she was at this moment, what he was doing. Then there was a stabilization, and he stood back up from where he had been kneeling on the sidewalk. The Something was well away from him, what was going on here? Then he considered a possibility which intruded into his mind. What if this was simply a consequence of the fact that history, here, was being altered, and he was quite simply not immune to whatever alterations that may have affected his previous self? This was difficult to dismiss. It was the entire point of his summoning to this Grail War, was it not? 

What change was it? The changes that had affected Rin and Sakura, traveling back in time to- what, alter EMIYA’s chromosomes in the womb somehow? Was it because EMIYA’s birth mother had gone to a punk screamo concert and the slightly different course of events had led to a different fertilization? Was it one of the deeper changes? EMIYA tried to think back to the previous fantasies, and then thought that he was being ridiculous. After all, having met the paladin Astolfo, and the Chevalier d’Eon, and a particular incarnation of Oda Nobunaga, and the Emperor of Qin, and Leonardo da Vinci, and Sir Mordred of Orkney- well, EMIYA had no excuse at this point for thinking that gender was solely a matter of chromosomes, of bodies given rather than bodies taken or seized, molded, reshaped-

He collapsed into a spiritual form and ran towards where the church of the priest had been. Hopefully it was still there. 

It was. A little haven of the world as he remembered it. Unchanged, unaltered, not even one of the ever-present concert posters or flyers lying discarded in its yard. Should he stay or should he go? He wished that Gilgamesh would come out suddenly or Cu Chulainn would wander by or something to motivate him to enter and entreaty that damned priest for aid. If he was interested in fixing this at all. Perhaps merely the chance to see a history collapse in on itself and get erased by panhuman history pruning defunct worldlines would be enough motivation to keep the priest from helping. 

EMIYA dithered, and then another vision struck. He braced himself, not sure how or necessarily why, but feeling it was needed at the moment. And then she looked down at herself. She was still… herself. Dark with hairs a silvery gray. Not even much longer in the hair. She still felt tightly muscled, like she had always been, and of course there was her chest. Impressive pectorals enhanced by even more impressive flesh, that had been one of the first gifts of the hormones to make themselves known, and she had wished Rin or Sakura could see her now as she flexed in the mirror and marveled at how her developing body pressed against her first bra- 

She stood inside her Reality Marble. It is a place she comes to again and again, the dying vision, the futile wreckage of her ideals, the place where the Hero of Justice went to die. And it is not her Reality Marble. The desert is no longer dead, but is merely austere and stark. Life trembles beneath it. The gears are polished, glistening with oil as they turn. There are workbenches, stained with use but not with despair, and there are swords everywhere but they are strewn in the sense of a careless artisan or absent-minded artiste hard at work. Diagrams line the tables. This, her Unlimited Blade Works, the development of her Reality Marble yet further, from someone who was born a sword, lived as a sword, and died as a sword, to someone who knew then that a sword can become many things, undergo many transformations, and still be a sword, and that she was always and would always be the essence of the sword, that by embracing herself she has become something even more primordial than Ea, what she could never Trace before. 

She saw herself, aproned, stir-frying, chopping away with an expertly wielded knife. She added to a soup on another burner. She was humming and singing in turn, a song she had known for years but never bothered to sing aloud. It was a little bit of frivolity, something about a girl as sweet as dandelion wine. But it seemed fitting. The light seemed to be that of a summer’s day, going on to the long descent into evening. And then the door opened into the kitchen and the King of Knights entered, as curvaceous and cocky as she was in the twisted history, and her eyes brushed across EMIYA, and she came up behind the EMIYA that was cooking and fondled her gently, kissing her when she turned to look, and then discreetly stole a bowl of dumplings, freshly-steamed. 

The cooking EMIYA reprimanded her gently, and the King of Knights ate the dumplings anyways, and then the image dissolved away, and EMIYA stood in an empty space, aloft on- she looked down- a pair of glowing radiant hands, spread in supplication. The void spoke to her with silence, the lack of sound insinuating. “And you could have all this,” it might have said. “You can have this moment, even if everything else collapses, and you can find your King again.” 

EMIYA opened her eyes. She reached inside herself, and felt around her Reality Marble, which was split in half. She opened her mouth. 

  
_  
**I am the bone of my sword,  
Flesh stronger than steel, blood hotter than fire.  
I have created a thousand blades,  
Ignorant to Death,  
Unbound by Life  
I have withstood pain to create many weapons,  
And these hands now hold everything in them.  
So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works.**  
_  


She has chosen. The foundry that emerges around her to fill the void is the workshop and not the hazy ruin. She raises her hands to the sky, and dismisses her Reality Marble. 

A distance away, Shinji Matou is suddenly motivated to throw his stinking uncooperative “Life Transformer” to the ground, out of sheer frustration at the raw unfairness of life. Here he is, with phenomenal cosmic power in his hand, and unable to control it to fix his mistakes, and everything he does seems to turn out terrible, and maybe it’ll break and solve the problem for good, whether by reverting everything or by just taking away the hope of fixing things. 

It doesn’t break. The karma that Shinji Matou has accumulated is so vast and thickly caked upon his citta that even within the history that is taking form inside the Bounded Field that surrounds Fuyuki, he cannot and must not catch a break of any kind. There is still quite a bit to work off. 

But what does happen is that the gun goes off, firing an iridescent beam at precisely the right position and angle to hit EMIYA as she, newly cognizant that she is she, emerges from within her Reality Marble. She is not really conscious of it as she is reshaped in accordance with the visions that she has experienced up until now. Muscular and busty, of course, and her body shifted slightly, giving her a girlcock that could satisfy any of the voracious people gathering in Fuyuki, and below it, a pursed pair of lips forming and opening to reveal a body that can give and also receive in a full array of passions. She quivers happily. 

If someone, say a certain genius with a gender of Mona Lisa, were to pry open the “Life Transformer” at this point, locate the firmware update port, and extract a data log from the mysterious machine, they would be able to determine that according to the Life Transformer, it simultaneously fired “Immodest Mother” and “Cut Above, Uncut Below” modes in order to produce the final EMIYA. Of course, the firmware update port, despite the little serial number with “Black Blossom Optronics” above it on one side, is only mimicking a human creation, and so it might well print out on the log that it contemplated adding catlike elements to create- EMINYA. Shinji will never know. The world will be spared this joke. And the question of just how and why it “malfunctioned” in precisely that way would remain a matter known only to the power behind the Life Transformer. 

For her part, EMIYA was doing a little dance, and laughing to herself, and finally realized that she still had two missions to carry out. 

First of all, preserve her own existence. She wanted to live. She wanted to see her King again, and all her various lovers. It was therefore necessary to determine a way to stabilize this Bounded Field and produce a coherent history that would not be pruned at this point. 

Second of all, talk to her younger self and get her on hormones! Let her be truly happy, let sweet Sakura enjoy the fullness of her senpai’s flesh. Let Rin take such moments as she would have where she wasn’t swept up in Luviagelita Edelfelt’s tempest to enjoy that sweet womanly Shirou Emiya. And not just preserve her own existence, but make herself thrive!

EMIYA hummed as she walked off, unsure how she would explain the sudden shift in her existence to anyone who questioned it, unsure if she should confess to Artoria now and let Artoria punish her thoroughly, or wait until things were a little bit more stable before she welcomed that loving judgment. What she was sure of was that she needed an apron. _Aprons._ They needed to accessorize with her outfit. That was not negotiable. Granted, the altered Rin was significantly richer somehow (an idle thought briefly flitted by that doing so made it much easier for her to attend concert after concert and buy merchandise at every one) and so there was unlikely to be a problem. Maybe there would be an objection if she decided to spontaneously upgrade anyone’s appliances. But really, Shirou’s oven was insufficient…

Kirei Kotomine barged out of the church just as EMIYA made her way out of sight. His hair was visibly mussed, his vestments somehow disheveled, as much as it is possible to wear a cassock in a disheveled fashion, and his face had the slightly tighter grimace and harder set of genuine annoyance that only those who had known him for decades could recognize. “Some people,” he muttered. “Set off a light show and then run away. Christ.” He glared around the general vicinity. A poster advertising a Siouxsie and the Banshees tribute concert fell off a nearby telephone pole. 

“Get your nihilistic candy ass back in here, mongrel,” Gilgamesh called from inside the church. “Whoever it is can wait for the King of Heroes to have one decent fucking orgasm.”


	2. How Do You Make An Archer Sandwich?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrusting ever onward, the newly cognizant EMIYA explores her options, and yet is countered by some quick improvisational work. This leads to further revelations, and a new awareness of the cosmos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unsure if I would continue this story. It felt almost one-and-done, and I was unsure where to go. And then I realized that there were people eagerly awaiting more, so I sat down and began to sketch something out, and then wild, desperate inspiration took hold. And this is what resulted, after a bit of revision. I hope it remains enjoyable for you, my public!

If you were to take a magus from the Clock Tower, or rather an average, run-of-the-mill one, and toss them into the surging storm that was forming around Fuyuki, and placed them right up against one of the transformed Heroic Spirits or humans, they would have sputtered, they would have been outraged, and they would have possibly spontaneously combusted on contact with the excess of tissue said transformed people had. Sweep up the ashes (not like anyone is going to miss you, Carmania Wilfred Grijalva Allegoet von Pumpernickel Castragon, heir to the Castragon Mage family, special line of research: spells for making bowties spin around), and then pluck another such magus from the Clock Tower, set them onto the board of reality like they’re merely a meeple and you’re about to absolutely douse the point-salad Eurogame in dressing, but this time at a safe distance, and they would cluck their tongue, blush, stare, and in all probability, if you gave them 50 years to work they would have abandoned the most interesting, most immediately relevant aspect of this transformation.

The transformation was at once an event, a singular point on the personal timeline, something which happened in history, and yet it was also a shift of history over to another timeline altogether. Raw Mystery, and quite interested in rawing you, were you cute enough. The metaphysical, cosmological, and pataphysical consequences of this paradox were fascinating indeed, but on the level of the day-to-day, hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute, the most immediate consequences of it were that you, the transformee, were experiencing totally new sensations while at the same time knowing that you had been experiencing them for quite some time longer. All of this has been to say that EMIYA was experiencing the phenomenon, the qualia, known as “gender euphoria”, and a massive great whack of it, while simultaneously knowing that she had been gender euphoric for years and years and years, and it had been a gradual development. 

Not that she really cared at the moment, as she was concerning herself with potential strategy. 

“But who should I invite?” she pondered under her breath, pushing through to the closest grocery store on the way back, a pair of aprons already under one arm. She had decided that tonight was going to be motsunabe. Sure, yes, she really ought to encourage the awakening, the blossoming, the hatching of herself, but that didn’t just mean breaking through the barriers of gender assignation, it also meant broadening her culinary tastes still further. It meant nose-to-tail eating. She hummed and picked out champon noodles, some vegetables, a bit of broth to add to the stock. 

“It’ll probably be all of them, won’t it?” she pondered, skipping out with some bags and on her way to a butcher shop. “Minus Ilya, in all probability.” She sighed, thinking about it as she made it into the butcher shop and cleared them out of beef offal. 

“Well,” she said, quietly, as she tramped into the Tohsaka family estate and began putting things away, “I suppose it would be worth it to get all the cards out on the table at once. More or less.”

“Whatcha doin’, nerd?” Rin asked, hauling a stack of laundry that consisted mostly of t-shirts for garage bands. 

“Dinner,” EMIYA said, wondering if Rin noticed anything different or not. There was something intriguing about how this altered Rin was so informal in her rudeness. She contemplated the possibility that the force that was driving these transfigurations, these exaltations, was in fact being ironic about it and shuddered. Well, they’d take that as it came. Speaking of which… “Rin, could you get one of the tarps and set it by the best living room?” Rin rolled her eyes.

“You’re such a mom,” she said. “How are you going to keep your identity concealed if you’re ever summoned to another Grail War? They’d just be able to list the biggest moms of history and throw darts at the list until they got it right.” 

“Rin.” EMIYA began assembling the dinnerware. 

“Fine, fine,” Rin said, and went to do her laundry. Once she had departed, EMIYA ran for the nearest mirror to make sure that her breasts hadn’t suddenly been reshaped in a pneumatic direction. She sighed in relief. There was still at least one mom more motherly than her. 

The guests arrived, dinner was served, and she managed to forestall her previous self from doing anything more than helping with dishes. There was just something about watching the altered metalhead Sakura still just as affectionate and intimately teasing with her previous self, something that almost had her sighing happily. “They’re going to be so happy when I break the news about her herness,” she murmured as she got a fresh bag for the burnable trash. 

Rin said something about a new post-thrash single she needed help downloading MP3s of, and Shirou dutifully went with her, and Sakura followed along to tease her sister, and then it was down to the adults in the room, plus Fujimura. Wait. How was she going to get Fujimura out of the- Taiga’s phone buzzed, and she went out to answer the call. 

“I suppose,” EMIYA said, draping herself across an armchair with a calculated level of insouciance, “that you are both aware of the investigation I’ve been pursuing.” Artoria smiled politely, while Medusa chuckled. 

EMIYA looked over at Medusa, and managed to resist shuddering. Whereas the Rider she remembered had been withdrawn in her poise, locked up internally, this one was just as poised, but open, confident, and most of all- hungry. A truly voracious appetite made itself known through her eyes and her mouth, like she was beyond anyone’s ability to satisfy, no matter whether you had a Divinity rank of A+ or an Endurance of EX. Right now, she was simply watching EMIYA with a kind of smug satisfaction. 

“Aware of your foolishness? Why, certainly,” Medusa said. “I should hope that you didn’t invite us here solely for such a dull purpose as to give a report on your findings.” She laughed again, and EMIYA quivered in time with Medusa’s body as it shook. 

“It is very apparent that some force has done the following things. Firstly, created a Bounded Field around Fuyuki,” EMIYA said, focusing on the facts. “Secondly, it has begun bringing histories into collision here. Ones that are mutually incompatible, but ones which-”

“Ones which appear to be focused around particular individuals altering the history of mankind by experiencing a great divergence in their existences, yes,” Medusa said, smiling up at the ceiling. 

“You knew.” EMIYA sputtered for a moment, then saw Artoria hiding her laughter. “You knew all along.”

“Not all along,” Medusa said, smiling kindly. “The King of Knights here also had no idea. But my existence as a degraded divinity became substantially less degraded when I was altered. A truly counterproductive notion, if the idea was to attempt to render us compliant to some greater plan.” She yawned and hissed. “So I am well aware that there is a history in collision here that centers upon me. And a history that centers upon her,” she said, pointing to Artoria, who waved, “And one centered on that dear Heraclea, and one which has probably encompassed Rin and Sakura, and it seems that one has engulfed you.” She stared at EMIYA. “Though it’s not easy to see… strange. Are those… in line with your heroic legend somehow?” She pointed at EMIYA’s chest. 

EMIYA looked from Medusa to Artoria, inquisitive interest to gentle reserve, though- was her skirt tenting? Surely not, what could possibly be turning her on right now? “Not the one that I formerly had,” she admitted, “and probably not the one that I have even now.” She shrugged. “They’re not a Noble Phantasm, if that’s what you mean.”

“My dear,” Medusa said, “If your breasts were a Noble Phantasm, I would be indulging myself in their Mystery right now.” 

“You’re very confident in your speed,” Artoria said, and EMIYA didn’t dare look at her. 

“Oh, you’d make the first move, King of Knights? Now is that chivalrous? Now I, as an anti-hero,” Medusa said, licking her lips with a long forked tongue.

“I am the one who made chivalry,” Artoria said, smugly. “If I should declare that it is chivalrous to take hold of a fair maiden like this, to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself in her eager curiosity, then it is so.” She gently patted the tent- rather, pavilion- which was pitched in her skirt. “Or perhaps I could decide to test this Archer to see if she’s knightly enough to sit the Siege Perilous and bear Excalibur for me.”

“Ladies,” EMIYA said, unsure what to say, “This is very serious. We need to stabilize the-” 

Medusa said, “A charming ordeal, but surely this woman should prove her status as a Heroic Spirit by overcoming a monster, yes?” She stretched and shimmied. “And while we’re both, frankly, titty monsters, it takes a bit more than that to really count as a legendary beast.”

“Stabilize the-” EMIYA tried to forge on. 

“Well, really, a woman like her needs both a monster to impale and a queen to serve,” Artoria said, laughing cheerfully. “All we need to do is be able to share delectable morsels..”

“The Bounded Field! It could collapse at any moment!” EMIYA yelped, trying not to think of how Artoria had said “delectable morsel.” 

“Archer,” Artoria said, “I would prefer to give you a choice of how you would like to be tested by my lance, but if you don’t refrain from such boorish interjections, it will be via your mouth.” She stood up. Medusa also rose to her feet. 

“Really, Archer, you’re quite cute but you do need to learn when to keep your mouth shut and when to have it stretched wide open,” Medusa said, one hand tracing down EMIYA’s arm gently and delicately. 

EMIYA let out a little shuddering moan, and then Artoria grasped her chin in her hands. She looked up into her King’s eyes, and saw nothing but gentleness there. “Do let us know if this gets to be too much,” Artoria whispered to her, “I’d much rather have you pass out after, rather than before.” 

“Although having you pass out in the middle would be a bit entertaining,” Medusa said, whispering in the opposite ear. EMIYA felt Medusa’s weight shift oddly, and realized she must have shed human guise for the snake-bodied form. “But there’s no need to rush. Let’s savor the dessert before us.”

Artoria laughed as EMIYA moaned, longer and less restrained. “True, true, but I think that she does need a bit of discipline, don’t you?” She slid her fingers into EMIYA’s mouth and gently forced it open, then with the other hand guided EMIYA down to her crotch. Her skirt had vanished somewhere, whether disrobed or dematerialized EMIYA couldn’t tell, and she was faced, for the first real time, with Artoria’s dick up close and personal. 

Yes, she had understood, on a more or less intellectual level, that Artoria had a truly massive dick, one that she had instinctively understood was just a hair under forty-two centimeters, but which her mind also thought of, again unconsciously, animalistically, as sixteen inches. But that was a dimension, a number, a scalar quantity. Here she was faced with the vector, the jutting length presented before her as her mouth was guided lovingly and soothingly onto Artoria’s womanhood. 

And then there was the scent that filled her, flooding her nose and her body and her thoughts. Leonine, potent, like a musky cologne, she drooled as her mouth was filled. And then something inside of her switched on, and she started sucking eagerly, practically slurping as her mouth set to work on the pillaresque cock that Artoria had offered so graciously to her newest knight.

Then she felt Medusa’s breasts settle against her back, and her legs were coiled in a serpentine tail, and ophidian scales brushed against her thighs as Medusa’s hand began to stroke EMIYA’s own girlcock in turn. She writhed within this grasp, feeling Medusa’s own perfume, one that tasted hungry and bloody and dangerous, seep within her too, and she was filled with the thought that here she was caught in an ordeal, one where the lustful Gorgon had sought to strip away the accretions of civilization, one hand eroding, _grinding_ away manners and gentility until all that would be left was a wild woods-woman, a creature of purest nature indeed, always so willing to offer her seed to the motherly snake goddess.

And then she spun, caught between these two histories, between the Sarpendonian Mysteries and the initiation into the lustful gorgoneae, and the Camelot of Desire, the Britain where Artoria’s peace had been made in her bed, and where her son Mordred had reigned after her, and on and on to the present day, the Spear of the Little Death piercing Time as it did all barriers. And EMIYA sucked and thrust and squirmed and drank and moaned and squealed and cried out. 

Her cries encouraged the King of Knights to begin actively thrusting, and Medusa had had the tip of her tail tease EMIYA’s sack too, and she focused, letting her breath center itself again, letting herself go, remembering the essence of archery. She nibbled on the tip of Artoria’s cock, she thrust heavily in Medusa’s grasp, and the King of Knights and EMIYA came together. 

The King of Knights was far too productive for even EMIYA’s capacious mouth, which had, after all, only left traces of its efforts for 3/4ths of Artoria’s full length. So fertile royal seed spilled from both ends of EMIYA, and then shortly thereafter Medusa had cried out and sagged against them both too, and then they were one coiled mass, it felt like. 

And EMIYA saw, now. She understood what had to be done. She looked up, briefly, to where the moon must be out, far beyond the ceilings, and uneasily worried that it was a lunatic plan. Bring the histories into contact, with herself as a mediating agent (though certainly not moderate in her ardor) and then somehow resolve their differences via sex? But then she laughed. Well, so what if it was, right? They were already in a realm of colliding, overlapping Mysteries! What else was there to do but set aside rationality? She curled up with the king and the monster, and enjoyed their heat. 

“Honestly, what is it with people? All that time spent on the call, and then it turns out I don’t qualify for an all-expenses paid cruise after all! That bratty voice on the other end... Oooh, I’d knock some sense into her!” Taiga Fujimura barged back into the living room, putting her phone away. She stopped, looking at the trio of Heroic Spirits in a tangle on the floor, sniffed the air, looked at the tarp beneath them, which had been white originally and now had a fresh layer of that color, and laughed weakly. “Well, I’ll, uh, leave you three to your Twister game,” she said, and adjourned to the kitchen for a stiff drink. 

Artoria sighed and cuddled against EMIYA. “I know who you are,” she said, dreamily. 

Medusa wrapped herself around them both. “Less talking,” she said, kissing EMIYA. “I think this poor thing is feeling a bit wrung out.” 

“You’re…” Artoria paused. “This is hard to phrase properly. But you’re the future of the person who contracted me, aren’t you?” She chuckled. “You have the same… feel. Rhythm. The same earnestness.” She kissed EMIYA too. “Oh, how I love that.” 

EMIYA froze. Should she…

“Ssshhh, shhh, don’t speak,” Medusa said. “Rest. You’ve just been entangled with the divine.” She ran a hand over EMIYA’s forehead. “We can talk when you wake.” EMIYA listened to her, and found herself drifting off, cognizant briefly that Artoria and Medusa were sharing a knowing smile. 

“No wonder,” she heard Artoria say, “I found- her so very attractive.” 

“And no wonder Sakura,” Medusa said, and then EMIYA slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would not classify myself as anywhere near an expert on Nasuverse Metaphysical Bullshit, but I can fake it OK, I think. Suffice it to say, there's more of this coming along, probably at irregular intervals, sadly. Below, a few notes on some more obscure points:
> 
> "Sarpedon" is, in one version of the story of Perseus, an island near to Lesbos where the Gorgons lived. Thus, in the timeline of Confident Domme Medusa, a mystery cult like the Eleusinian mysteries (named for the polis of Eleusis) sprung up around her. I doubt I'll ever elaborate this in the text, but it involves snakegirl transformation (and thus the "gorgoneae", some very bad Classical Greek that's meant to recall the bacchae of Dionysus).
> 
> "Rhongomyniad", meanwhile, translates to "slaying spear" or "striking spear", and the former is not far off from "killing spear" -> "spear of death" -> Artoria's girlcock is the Spear of Little Death. I am unsure if her dick really is a manifestation of Rhongomyniad or not, canonically, as it were. That is something that may become relevant later, though. 
> 
> A "point salad" is a term among fans of designer boardgames to refer to a very specific type of European-style boardgame which gives scoring points for virtually every action you might take within it.
> 
> Motsunabe is a stew of beef offal, usually intestines, sometimes other offal cuts, which was a brief fad across all of Japan but remains a popular dish in Fukuoka.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a complicated origin. It is simplest to say that I have discussed a compelling theory that Shirou Emiya is a trans woman and found it intriguing (and also delighted in how it explains how people with such lesbian vibes as Artoria, Rin, and Sakura all find Shirou attractive) and then Case Files went and included a character who looks just like a Femmiya. It is also simplest to say that I encountered a collaborative pornographic story about a transforming magical artifact falling into Fate/Stay Night which managed somehow to predict Gorgon and Lancer Artoria (not that those are necessarily difficult things to predict if you're horny and a Fate fan) some years ago and which I discovered is still ongoing. And so I decided to combine these two things together. This was the result. I hope it was enjoyable! 
> 
> Obviously, room is left open for a continuation...


End file.
